A child can lead this Ox of ours;
And yoke his ponderous neck, with cords
Made only of the gentlest words.
By fruitful Nile the Ox was Lord;
By Jordan's stream his blood was poured;
In every age—with every clan—
He loves, he serves, he dies for Man!
And, through the long, long years of God,
Since labouring Adam delved the sod,
I hear no human voice that mocks